


Regrowth

by SpookyMiscreant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mating Bites, Nemeton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 02:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyMiscreant/pseuds/SpookyMiscreant
Summary: Day two: Magical Stiles (or) AND Mating Bite!Stiles is Gifted in green magic and just trying to make a living until one night something calls him from the preserve





	Regrowth

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the fantastic mods!  
> Heres my take on Magical Stiles and Mating Bites!  
> [My tumblr post!](https://lacrossepapi.tumblr.com/post/176197222843/regrowth)

“What’s wrong little guy?” Stiles cooed at the wilting rose bush. 

“It’s been on the edge of death for weeks. Please tell me you can save it!” Mrs. Jones pleaded behind him. 

“I can help you, but it’s going to have to wait for the waning gibbous moon in two days.” Before Stiles could continue his explanation Mrs. Jones threw herself into his chest. 

“Mrs.Jones, I’m happy to be of assistance, but we need to figure out why someone has been wanting your roses dead so that I don’t have to cleanse them every month.” Stiles laughed pleasantly as he gently removed the elderly lady from his body and said, “Not that I wouldn’t like to see you that often.”

He sent her a wink for extra measure. 

Mrs.Jones giggled, “Oh you little minx! You’re too sweet to this old lady.”, her smile dropped as she thought for a moment, “I bet it’s that darn Peggy Clifton down the street! My rose bush beat hers for Most Vibrant Bloom and she’s been down right hateful since!” 

“I think you should go over and see if a nice homemade pie might soothe her ire. Compliment her hydrangeas or something. Make her regret being so rude to such a nice young lady,” another wink, “and maybe she’ll stop killing your roses.” Stiles knew he was flirting with this woman, but old ladies always had the prettiest flora and if he could get in her good graces long term he might be able to spend time in her lovely garden surrounded by her happy plants. 

“Yes my sweet I think that’s exactly what I’ll do! Like my nana always said ‘Kill them with kindness and if that don’t work a good stabbing will!’ Hopefully I won’t need to get out ol’ Richard.” Mrs.Jones let out a pretty laugh when she saw Stiles’ face. 

“Nana named that knife after her first husband, you know they never did figure out where he ran off to.” Mrs.Jones sent him a wink of her own before linking elbows with Stiles and bringing him inside. 

Three days later, under the gibbous moon Stiles said a quick incantation to bless the small cloth bag he’d put:  clove, wormwood, holly, motherwort, lavender, and vervain in for purification, healing, and protection. Unless Mrs.Clifton decided to get really nasty Mrs.Jones’ roses were going to be perfectly healthy. 

Mrs.Jones had sent him off with a pan of brownies and a teary hug goodbye. He really did adore the sweet older ladies in Beacon Hills. They always had such happy plants, and were always willing to have a chat. 

The light of the large gibbous moon lit his way through the preserve, a path he’d taken so often he could walk it backwards and with his eyes closed.

Tonight something was different Something was calling him.

Stiles pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. The hair on the back of his neck started to stand as he went deeper into the relative darkness of the forest. The tugging sensation was getting stronger the further he went, but this was his quickest way home and Stiles wasn’t going to show weakness by turning around. The air around him danced quickly across his chilled skin leaving the impression of little feet racing down his spine. He tried to block out the smell of wet decay as he moved quickly down the path. The tugging sensation was strongest as he approached the trail to the old root cellar his mom used to go to. His steps sounded hurried and panicked even to his own ears as he raced out of the forest and into the orange glow of the streetlights. 

-

Stiles avoided the path through the preserve until the day of the dark moon. He’d told his father where he was going to be for the night in case anything happened and headed out into the forest before the sun had fully set. Stiles wasn’t a fan of being caught out in the dark again, but tonight would be a good night for divination and he wanted to find out if the thing calling him that night had malicious intent or did genuinely need his help.

He downed the last of his rosemary tea, which he’d brewed specifically for courage, and stepped onto the path to the old root cellar he’d only ever heard stories about. Stiles immediately started hearing cries in the wind. Something was out here hurting, maybe even dying; unless he was being baited into a trap. He pulled his favorite hoodie tighter around himself, the red color soothing in its familiarity, not to fight the chill but to fight his sense of dread as he searched through the ever dimming light of the setting sun. His mother had told him that sitting in the root cellar that resided underneath a great elder tree would help him focus his energy, but he still hadn’t seen any trees he would describe as “great” or one of the elder trees. 

When he finally did find the doors to the root cellar they were not at the base of a great elder tree, but at the base of the largest stump Stiles had ever seen. The soft cries on the wind had grown louder with each step towards that massive stump, but with the rosemary running through him and his belief in himself strong Stiles persisted. The wind whipped through the trees as if a tornado was only seconds away or perhaps already upon him. The branches of trees groaned under the pressure, the animals silent save for the screams. The entire forest was telling him to run, and yet Stiles still felt the tugging of a life in pain seeking help. Stiles whispered a quick prayer to Medeina, the slavic she-wolf goddess of the forest and its creatures, in hopes that she’d see that he was only here to help a tree under her protection.

Stiles moved away from the doors to the cellar and closer to the stump. Stiles could feel the ley lines that intersect in the base of the tree, which explained why his mother would come here for divination and other magics that needed extra power. There were two large wounds on the tree’s interior. The first was connected to the northern line that headed out of Beacon Hills, and was a massive dark ink blot like stain. The second, smaller but still significantly sized injury to the great tree was a large burn mark that was connected to the eastern line and if Stiles remembered correctly it continued through the preserve, past the old Hale house, and exited the town through the main road. 

“Note to self: Check out where the ley lines run through town” Stiles mumbled, knowing he’d remember because he spoke it out loud and his need to know everything often helped him remember things like this. 

Stiles raised the velvet sack of herbs in his pocket up to his lips for good luck before stepping up to the closest wound and lifting his empty hand over the burned scar to divine its origin. 

_ Wolves howling in pain _

_ Cackling laughter _

_ Muffled screams _

_ Human blood spilled _

_ Vengeance _

_ Balance _

He stepped back and shook the phantom pain from his hand. This injury was old and while not forgotten it was obviously healed over. The great tree had made peace with what had caused this wound, had found balance with the events that surrounded the burn. Stiles vaguely remembered the arson case his father had worked on six years ago. There’d been six deaths and three survivors. Stiles remembered something about an uncle getting custody of the two Hale kids he went to school with even though the uncle was young. Stiles remembers thinking about how lonely and distraught his classmate and her brother must have been, the death of his mother fresh in his ten year old mind. Stiles shook off the heavy emotions of both the tree’s and his own remembered pain as he took a moment to catch his breath.

Stiles clutched his spell bag as he slowly walked toward the massive ink stain in an effort to keep his nerves from over taking him. He sent a quiet prayer to Gulbis the guardian angel and protector of human spirits, hopefully if something did go wrong tonight he’d get to see his father one more time. 

Stiles sensed the presence of a lurking were just as he took one more calming breath and finally put his hand over the wound. 

_ War _

_ Death _

_ Chaos _

_ Destruction _

_ Human blood spilled _

_ Supernatural blood spilled _

Stiles broke the connection, stumbling back with from the strength of the pull he now felt from the tree. He drew in quick shuddering breaths as he tried to further himself from the stain. He scrambled across the leaf covered ground before emotions exploded from the tree. 

**_HATE_ **

**_JOY_ **

**_CHAOS_ **

**_GLEE_ **

**_STRIFE_ **

Stiles was hyperventilating. He couldn’t breathe with the speed of his thoughts and it was causing his chest to contract, his vision going blurry. His world was closing in on him and he knew he was on the edge of blacking out; his brain kept reminding him that whatever was sealed in the tree was going to get him if he passed out, but he couldn’t fight the increasing panic. 

A wet nose shocked him out of his thoughts and brought him gasping back into the world. A wolf was gently prodding him in the side as if trying to get him further away from the demon trapped in the great elder tree. That’s what it is, what it has to be; a demon. How was Stiles gonna defeat a demon? 

The wolf whined efficiently stopping him from panicking again. The wolf was right, Stiles needed to get the hell out of there. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed a hold of the wolf’s fur so that it could lead him down the now pitch dark path. Stiles took a soothing breath as he blindly followed the wolf in the darkness before closing his eyes to focus his energy. He gripped his divination spell bag once as he slowly opened his eyes to a dark world exploding with color. The dark moon was so good for soul searching and divination that Stiles could see the auras of every living creature around, including the wolf he was following.

The wolf’s aura was intriguing to watch. The shades of yellow mixing with shades of blue and gold; lemon swirling around navy, gold intertwining with cerulean, pale yellow twisting through burnt amber. Stiles watched as the colors danced and began drawing his conclusions about his mysterious savior. His wolf was intelligent, creative, driven, but the specific mix of shades is what caught Stiles’ attention. He looked at where his aura met the wolf’s and noticed how similar they were. Medeina had sent him a savior who suited Stiles’ own personality and soul. 

Stiles sent her a prayer of thanks before releasing his view of the spirits around him. He was immediately surrounded by darkness again, his only grip on the world around him was the soft fur under his palm and the sound of his stumbling footsteps. Once the wolf had guided him out of the preserve Stiles collapsed onto the sidewalk in relief and closed his eyes while he focused on his breathing.

Stiles heard his companion huff a mocking breath.

“If you were in my place you’d be relieved too you ass.” Stiles said with his middle finger in the direction he thought the werewolf was. 

After a few moments of silence he looked around only to find out he was now alone.

-

Stiles had gone to the cafe next to the herbal shop he frequented to to read over the new banishing books he’d just bought. Unfortunately for him the cafe was busy and he kept being distracted by the bells that twinkled every few seconds as a customer opened the door. Being constantly distracted in a warm room with good lighting and just the right amount of anxiety to keep him awake was definitely better than reading alone in his apartment where he’d either go on a random research binge or would accidently fall asleep. 

He glanced up as the bells twinkled and made instant eye contact with a gorgeous older man with blazing blue eyes and a charming half smile. Stiles was practically panting despite the knee-jerk reaction of awkwardly looking back down at his coffee when he realized they were holding eye contact for an unusually long amount of time. 

“Way to go you useless twink. How are you ever supposed to get someone to actually date your bi ass if you panic after making eye contact with a fine ass man you don’t even know?” Stiles whispered to himself kicking himself for his lack of confidence. 

Stiles’ head shot up when he heard a soft rumbling laugh from the direction of the register. The man was laughing, but was still alone in the line. Stiles’ life was ruined. He was a deadman. 

“You’re a were aren’t you?” He whispered testing out his theory, this time watching the man for his reaction. 

The man nodded and flashed him a dazzling, yet cocky smile that just so happened to also have a bit of fang to it.  

Stiles knew his face was bright red as he stared into that self-assured beauty and remember the embarrassing way he’d responded to the man he had yet to actually say a formal word to. He dropped his head to the table with a dull thud and sent a quick prayer to Pilvytė for luck and focused his energy. When he lifted his head he could see the auras of the people around him, but not as vibrant as a couple weeks ago when he’d seen the whole forest alight with the colors of every living creature’s aura. He needed to make sure the mystery man didn’t have nefarious intentions as he approached Stiles’ table, but was shocked to not only find him pure of intent but also find out he was the wolf that had saved him. 

Wasn’t that interesting? 

“May I join you?” The man asked, his eyes twinkling with the secret upperhand he thought he had. 

Stiles blinked away the Sight as he nodded. 

They sat in silence as both men read the books they had brought. Stiles would have felt uncomfortable if he had truly not known the man, but this werewolf had saved him. Stiles was, perhaps foolishly, more comfortable with the man’s presence and soon found himself yawning as the task of focusing on the book in front of him grew tedious and exhausting. 

“I’m Stiles. What’s your name?” he had planned on being smoother, but the man was truly gorgeous and had already saved his life so it was hard not to be weird. 

“Thank you for sharing your table with me and gracing me with such lovely reading company, Stiles. My name is Peter.” Oh he was smooth, and charming, and gorgeous, and stunning, and Stiles’ kryptonite apparently. 

“It’s been a pleasure Peter.” Stiles closed his book and put it back in the bag it’d came in with a grace he did not realize he possessed in the presence of this handsome of a man, “Nice to see you on two feet this time.” 

Stiles did a mental fist bump as he heard Peter’s surprised intake of breath as he passed him and continued on to the exit. 

-

Stiles wanted to never return to that wounded great elder tree, but he knew he had to. He had to help that poor ancient tree; it shouldn’t have to contain that monster that so obviously was hurting it. 

He cursed himself and his stupid bleeding heart the entire walk to the nemeton. The only thing that ended his long litany of admonishments was the appearance of Peter, who had brought along a cup of coffee for him too. 

“You intrigue me.” Peter’s voice was, unfortunately for him, as smooth and charming as Stiles remembered. 

Stiles just hummed in response, a small smirk finding its home on his lips. 

They spent the evening like that, Peter making flattering and imploring comments and Stiles replying with smirks and noncommental noises. The longer he spent in Peter’s presence the more Stiles felt grounded, and it helped him probe the spell containing the demon. The mechanics of the spell were incredibly complicated and Stiles groaned audibly in annoyance when he realized just how long it was going to take him to figure out how to re-enforce the containment and make it so the demon couldn’t hurt the great elder tree anymore. Stiles wished he could kill it, but he had no idea if it even could be killed. All Stiles could do is bind it more and monitor the spell until he found a better solution or died, whichever came first. 

Stiles sighed and started gathering his things back into his bag, “Alright handsome, that’s it for today.” 

“What have you found out, darling witch?” He turned to see Peter smirking up at him from his place against a boulder.

“Well, first of all don’t call me a witch. It has a lot of negative history and pain for my people attached to it. We prefer Gifted. Secondly, I’ve figured out I can’t kill the demon the tree holds, but I might be able to seal it better so it doesn’t leak out and hurt the elder tree anymore.” Stiles explained as they made their way out of the clearing and back into the preserve. 

“Well that’s a bummer.” 

Stiles barked a laugh at Peter’s lame response, and found the burden of saving the nemeton a little lighter with Peter by his side. 

-

They spent the cool autumn days that way, bantering to distract Stiles from the demon inside the tree and the crushing weight of responsibility and researching in the cafe they’d first met in. Peter was a charming whirlwind that Stiles had no defenses against, and he soon found himself madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with Peter. They spent so much time together Stiles found it impossible to resist the man or his feelings. 

Luckily for Stiles, Peter was just as enamored as he was. You could almost say Stiles had bewitched the werewolf with his wit and humor. 

They spent the winter wrapped in each other’s embrace. Together they sealed the demon inside the nemeton so tight it could never hurt the elder tree again. 

Fireworks sparkled above them as they finished the final ritual and Stiles found himself happier than he had ever been in his adult life. Here he was on a beautiful night, under dazzling fireworks, and beside the love of his life sent to him from the gods when he needed him most, and Stiles felt like he could fly. 

“Come here darling boy.” Peter voice was a honeyed rumble as he held a hand out to Stiles. 

His own joy plus the relief of the nemeton and the magic of new years eve had Stiles twirling happily into his lover’s arms and leaning against his strong chest. 

“I want you to bite me.” Stiles sighed out in a dream like state high on the glee inside him. 

Peter gently swayed them both, humming a tune Stiles didn’t recognize. 

“I want to give you the mating bite too my love. Tonight, under these stars, we dance. In the morning you’re mine forever.” Peter’s words floated on the breeze, gently wrapping themselves around the couple. 

“In the morning you’re mine forever.” Stiles whispered the words back to him, clutching Peter closer. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi [Lacrossepapi](www.lacrossepapi.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
